


(let) the (sky) fall

by leprixx



Category: James Bond (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-01
Updated: 2012-11-01
Packaged: 2017-11-17 13:13:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/551948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leprixx/pseuds/leprixx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a thousand women with pretty dresses and the one who didn't, the one who wasn't, and dresses wet with rain, and blood, and love wasted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(let) the (sky) fall

_this is the end - hold your breath and count to ten; feel the earth move and then hear my heart burst again. for this is the end, i've drowned and dreamt this moment. so overdue, i owe them. swept away, i'm stolen._

\--

a thousand women with pretty dresses and the one who didn't, the one who wasn't, and dresses wet with rain, and blood, and love wasted.  
a pinch of orphans and places to be, lives to end, gunpowder to release and clean and distribute. suits to wear, cars to drive, evidences to burn, women to feel and take and press against the wall of bathrooms that aren't theirs, will never be. suits to press against the wall of bathrooms that aren't theirs and will never be, cars to burn, evidences to wear, women to drive. a pinch of orphans to kill, to train beside you.

but you are the only one.

\--

sometimes sleep evades him, in his spot-clean house, in his forgotten bed. and comes, from the bottom of glasses, the lid of every medicine bottle, the blacking out of every injury that he's not supposed to survive.

'your body is a temple', says someone, someone who doesn't live his life - and what a strange way to name it, life, as if it has a purpose, or as if it has none. he lives to kill, the joke of existing to cease the existence of whatever, of whoever else.

he's not as fast, not as young, not as strong, not as quick.

but there's no one else like him.

\--

travel half the world and dream of home, have nightmares involving the first roof you ever looked up to, close your eyes before putting the first bullet through a head and remember the dampness of the tunnels meant to hide and protect. those tunnels that build and destroyed you.

and convince yourself that this is for the greater good, convince yourself that this is for the world, for yourself, for the homeland, for the queen, for the little children lying in their beds convinced that they're safe from everything but the monsters hiding inside their closets.

but you are out to destroy half the world.

\--

they tell him he's the best, he's a monster, he's irreplaceable, he's efficient, he's an asset, he's too young too good too old too useless. there are a thousand voices, a thousand bureaucrats, a thousand policeman, a thousand women whose bones he hides inside his heart.

they lead him in endless journeys, introduce him to people that are both treasures and trash, shiny eyes and foul breaths. sour hearts and soft hands. women in pretty dresses, men in ties, women in formal skirts and shirtless men with skin worn by the sun.

but he's alone.

\--

you drown in blue eyes, soft mouths, spans of skin varying in tones. throats that give under your teeth, waists thin enough you can envelop them with your two broad hands. they make the right sounds, all pretty, all smart, all dangerous in their own ways - trying to hold you down or give you up or kill you or consume you, and aren't those all the same things?

there's one you hold close (too close) and you wish you could have breathed her in, inhaled her down your lungs and heart and bloodstream.

but you can't.

\--

you work and you die, once. lives a life of alcohol somewhere where you're no one, just another john with a good enough face and no fear of death. it's monotone, boring, everything you always thought you would have before everything became nothing and you became someone, became a man, became an agent, became more than james bond and instead became agent 007, bond, james bond, and a bullet through the heart, and a kiss to red lips, and explosions, and bodies falling through the air and water and the shift of bones and failure and success and being alive, at last, back where you're needed.

(and she dies, and you have a new boss, a new middlemen, a new gun, a new set of rules to ignore)

but nothing is ever the same. (or okay, or done.)


End file.
